


No place I would rather be

by hannibalnuxvoxmica



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hannibal is good at giving blowjobs, I imagine he would be, I mean come on, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing, Will is good in bed, and as Will Motherfucking Graham, because as an empath, surprising absolutely no one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalnuxvoxmica/pseuds/hannibalnuxvoxmica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Hannibal stretches, curling himself further around Will, and lazily kisses him on the neck, against his cheek. His hand travels downward, stopping when it reaches his stomach, his fingers dancing and swirling atop sleep-warmed skin.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“One track mind.” He mumbles into Hannibal’s hair, and at this Hannibal smiles, humming.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	No place I would rather be

**Author's Note:**

> I had to decide whether to post this or my contribution to #SpacedogsSummer first. This won out because it was done sooner and only needed editing, but I will have the other up soon! 
> 
> Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

Will wakes, opening his eyes to the dim lighting of the room. Beside him, Hannibal stirs sleepily. Never once in the many nights that he has slept in Hannibal’s bed has Will been the first to wake up. Never has he woken alone, either. Hannibal saves coffee and breakfast for after they are both awake, sometimes less than enthusiastic about having to pry himself away from their bed and from Will, but always happy to return.

Hannibal stretches, curling himself further around Will, and lazily kisses him on the neck, against his cheek. His hand travels downward, stopping when it reaches his stomach, his fingers dancing and swirling atop sleep-warmed skin. Will attempts to appear irritated at this, but fails.

“One track mind.” He mumbles into Hannibal’s hair, and at this he smiles, humming.

His hand brushes against Will’s thigh, teasing as his fingers move inwards. Will attempts to reposition, to kick his legs and draw his knees up, but finds himself held down, his efforts tangled against the weight of Hannibal’s own leg.

“You’ve pinned me.”

“I can do worse, if you’d like.” Hannibal says playfully. The smug grin he wears evident in sound alone.

In the beginning, this had been a difficult thing to breach. Both of them touch-starved and wanting after domesticity and the small intimacies therein made it painfully clear that something was missing. But both of them, in time and in turn, dismissed it in their own way.

For Hannibal, it was because he never would have believed that _this_ \- closeness and cleaving and lazy mornings spent in bed - would be possible. It had been a thread, but only a thread. A single train of thought among the hundreds of others that he contained within himself but didn’t necessarily dwell on.

Although, admitably, he did dwell on it _slightly_ more than others. But to consider it an actual possibility? That Will would want him, _could_ want him, even a fraction as much as he has wanted him ever since he dreamt of abandoning their life in Baltimore and starting anew?

He never could have foreseen, let alone hoped.

For Will, his complete dismissal of the matter was born from a dozen different objections and fears, while a dozen and one rebuttals reared their heads. Eventually, his fusses and anxieties wilted, and in their absence his affection blossomed into the empty space, coming to a final and somewhat sudden end when he kissed Hannibal on the porch of their tiny cabin, standing beneath the stars and the light of a half-moon that shone bright in the dark landscape.

His dismissals died a peaceful death that night as they stumbled clumsily indoors, leaving a trail of discarded clothes in their path.

Will groans softly, biting his bottom lip as Hannibal’s hand forms a loose tunnel around his cock. He strokes him slow, pushing himself up and on top of Will, throwing the sheets and blankets back as he does. He leans down, kissing him, breaking away as he trails down his neck and chest.

Now free to move, Will bends his knees, planting his heels into the mattress. His hands, sometimes unsure of where to go, whether to claw at the sheets or at Hannibal, whether to grab the bars of the bedframe above his head or to collapse them over his face, settle in Hannibal’s hair as he descends lower. He nestles comfortably between Will’s legs as they spread further, kissing the insides of his thighs, atop trembling muscle. Hannibal brushes against his cock with his lips, with his tongue, each touch making Will gasp, wanting more, _needing_ more, but receiving nothing as he moves on. Kissing or nuzzling instead against the inside of his hip, brushing against the soft thatch of dark hair that grows just above. Hannibal grazes him again with warm, wet lips, and Will bucks jerkily, groaning in frustration as Hannibal moves away.

“Don’t be impatient.” Hannibal chastises him, not at all displeased.

Will attempts a protest. Something to communicate that he isn’t impatient, but just so fucking hard that it _hurts_. That he is throbbing and can feel his pulse in his teeth. He tries to work this into a coherent sentence, one that will actually come off his tongue as a string of words rather than slurred nonsense.

And he almost manages it, his efforts perched on his tongue, pressed against his lips…

Right in the same moment as Hannibal wraps his mouth around the head of his cock, swirling his tongue around him. He pulls away and kisses up the length of him, sucking and nuzzling, rolling back the delicate layer of skin with his hand to reveal further the pinkness underneath, and flicking there lightly with his tongue when he does.

Will arches, and instead of words an involuntary noise escapes him, high-pitched and wavering, that doesn’t at all resemble language but that is understood entirely.

Hannibal pumps him with his hand and presses his tongue rhythmically against the underside of Will’s cock, running slow along the ridge and pressing long against his slit. His cock stands twitching and glistening, leaking pre-come and wet from saliva, and from his mouth a volley of curses empty into the room.

There are few things other than this that are as quick to render Will a melted and incoherent mess of nerves and pleasure. This is something that they have perfected, learned from guidance and experimentation. Trust and listening.

Will tugs at Hannibal’s hair, asking for more, and Hannibal obliges, rumbling low in his throat when Will’s voice breaks into a whimper. Will is too polite, too considerate to fuck him how he undoubtedly wants to; rough enough to affect Hannibal’s voice in the morning, enough to make him a kind of sore that will last for days. He is greedy for as much as Hannibal will give him, but never pushes beyond what they know. Never breaches without communication. He gives as much as he takes, unashamed and often bold in his arousal.

He is nothing short of perfection.

Hannibal quickens and bobs between his legs as Will nears his finish, his climax building and swelling. He allows Will to slip deeper, opening and relaxing his throat as he does.

Will shakes and trembles, his lungs failing him and his vision going black as his cock rubs against the back of Hannibal’s throat, sucking hard.

Sharp and sudden, he comes, spurting hot seed across Hannibal’s tongue. His voice so goddamn loud as he does that it nearly shakes the room.

He collapses against the bed, his muscles all chiming in in a chorus of exhaustion only made known to him now. Hannibal falls to the side of him.

“I think if we had done this earlier,” he says, so obviously pleased, “you may have found me more agreeable.”

Will laughs as heartily as he can, reddened and glowing. Hannibal brushes the curls out of his face that stick sweaty to his forehead, and kisses him.

“It’s still early.” Will murmurs, parting for breath.

Too early to bother getting up. Too early to worry about things that can so easily be left for later. The sun has only barely begun to crawl over the mountain-lined horizon. The world is still quiet, and still feels significantly smaller as early mornings and nights often do in comparison to the day, as if the world begins to shrink the moment it grows still.

Will turns, shifting to face Hannibal. He moves his hand to his chest and rests it there, admiring the soft patch of hair that he gains more enjoyment from than he had expected to. He skims down his middle and to his stomach. The life that Hannibal has now, that they both have, is far less demanding on all accounts than it had been before, and they have been softened by it.

Inside and out.

Hannibal had ridiculed before the life of mundanity and routine, of laziness, but he seems less than bothered by it now that it is the life he shares with Will. Loving to spend the day in bed as long as Will is beside him. Eager and willing to do anything, or be anywhere, as long as Will is with him. And that includes fly fishing and hiking with the dogs, and staying awake the entire night under the wide expanse of stars, talking Will out of whatever rut he’s found himself in.

Will gazes between them, head tilted on the pillow while kisses are planted in his hair. Hannibal is still hard, his cock standing stiff against him as he lays on his side.

Will can’t help but admire him.

He is naked exactly as he had imagined he would be; weighty and long, in perfect proportion to the rest of him. Pure strength and capability masked under softness and, typically, three-piece suits that have long been done away with.

Ever curious, Will has explored him but not in entirety. There are realms that they have yet to cross into. Things that lie just beyond the walls in moments like these, uninvolved, unimportant, until suddenly they are necessary and needed. Breached at last. Delighted like boys when they do, elated at the sensations they find they can bring each other. Enough to temporarily blind and shock, enough to exhaust them that they sleep through the day, only to pick up where they left off long after the sun has set.

Will places a hand to Hannibal’s shoulder and pushes him, rolling atop him as he gives into the pressure, settling on his back. Will straddles him and kisses along his jaw, by his ear where it sends shivers down his spine.

Hannibal lets out a laugh.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I said it was still early.” Will responds, his voice mellow. “And we don’t have anywhere to be.”

“Plenty of places to be.” Hannibal retorts, a grin pulling at the edges of his lips. A rushing feeling of bliss igniting beneath his skin. Burning in his muscles and chest and in the pit of his stomach.

_There’s nowhere I’d rather be than here._

Will says nothing else. He presses into him, holding him down with strong legs and arms. He puts his hands to work, caressing and exploring, and his mouth follows purposefully afterwards, unabashedly and unsurprisingly skilled. Well aware of how to render Hannibal speechless, well aware of how to short-circuit him and damn near proud of it when he does.

He makes it more than clear that he doesn’t intend for either of them to leave this room until much, much later.

And to this, Hannibal resigns himself willingly.  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I've always known I was the type of person who would enjoy writing smut, but it turns out I _really_ like it. Like a lot. So I hope you enjoyed it too! 
> 
> Let me know what you thought in the comments! I always love hearing what you guys have to say!
> 
> [You can find my Tumblr here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hannibalnuxvomica) in case you were wondering. Come hang out!


End file.
